Russian America
by Ephemeral Cry Wolf
Summary: Alaska's definition of whale hunting was just a tad bit different from Russia's. See what Russia meant was he'd let the colony shoot the harpoon, seated safely behind the gun while Russia watched over him; this is not at all how it happened. Russia never knew having a colony would be so difficult. Slightly historical. America makes appearances. No Pairings!
1. Chapter 1

Updated: (6/2/18) made minor changes, added more content, historical notes, fun facts, and split into chapters [Please re-read this if you read the first time. It is very different]

 **A/N: This fic was meant to bring attention to the fact that Alaska was Russia's colony, so in theory Alaska would have a representative and he's not just a RusAme love child (although I love those fics). It's just my headcanon that Alaska is a boy.**

 **I just really wanted someone to make a fic exploring Russia's and Alaska's early relationship. I'm kind of tired of the stories with teenage Alaska angry at Russia for abusing him. I don't think Russia would do that seeing how he was abused as a child.**

 **Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me.**

* * *

 **West of Prince of Wales Island. July 15, 1741.**

It wasn't the bluest of days; many hazy gray clouds floated close by, but it wasn't a bad day either. The sun was shining down on the sparkling blue water, and thanks to the clouds it wasn't too hot.

Russia sighed in satisfaction as the coast became visible. The expedition in 1648 had gone horribly wrong; no one had returned and Russia was left wondering if there was more land to the east of his home. It didn't bother him much to know for sure until other nations began talking about their colonies. 1725 wasn't any better; Peter the Great had become curious and sent another expedition, but no sightings of North America were seen at all, nothing but the vast ocean. This time Russia came along to guide his men; with his presence they were sure to be led in the right direction. Russia smiled to himself, maybe if he hurried he would even claim more land... that is, if England, France, or Spain hadn't beaten him already. He scoffed at the thought.

No. The very thought was ridiculous. They would not beat him; the New World had many resources to offer and the other three had already started colonies. Russia was going to get his share even if he had to take it by force. He should really thank England and France, if not for the two of them parading the colonies in Europe( rather France couldn't keep quiet about his little Canada), then Russia would have never kept pursuing that land to the east. Although, the two nations had been inhospitable to him when Russia came bearing gifts for the colonies; England seemed to have no control over his as the tiny colony had snuck into the library to see Russia (the gifts Russia brought). One look at the golden haired child was enough to make Russia want a colony of his own.

So far the ride on the _Sv. Pavel_ had been smooth and things looked promising as he marveled at the greenery ahead. Violet eyes widened at the sight of a whale coming half way out of the water before splashing back down below; and further ahead there was a large rock with many sea otters laid out on it. Magnificent. He wondered what else the New World had to offer.

Russia was the first to set foot on land. The fresh air, the land, the trees, wildlife; all of it excited him, but he would never express it in front of his men. Instead he opted to leave. "Chirikov," Russia looked back at the captain, "continue to chart anything you find, I'm going to explore." The captain nodded as Russia left the crew behind.

Ivan was well into his exploration of sighting sea otters when a furry creature came bounding out of the trees and stopped right at his feet. It was a rather large white and black puppy; it was much too large to be one of his huskies, it was probably a malamute.

The puppy eyed Russia with it's icy blue eyes and yipped for his attention. "What is it," Russia wonders if the dog would even understand him, but the puppy starts trotting off in the direction it had come from. Ivan decides to follow the dog and soon he hears the sound of crying; he stopped in his tracks; he hadn't found any indigenous people yet so this was unexpected.

Searching further he came upon a small child whose back was turned to him; they couldn't have been older than three years. Their head was hidden with a brownish white hooded parka, light brown pants covered their legs and furred kamiks covered tiny feet. The pup brushed against the child; their sizes were comparable. Ivan couldn't imagine that a human would be as careless enough to lose such a young child.

Russia hesitated, he wasn't very good with handling children. Slowly, he walked over to the child and bent down on his knees and placed his large hand on the tiny shoulder. "Don't cry little one."

The startled child whipped around and Ivan gasped as his eyes beheld the features of the little boy; gray locks of hair, the color of a bird's down, framed big aquamarine blue eyes that were watery from crying. A stray hair that wouldn't lay with the rest sticks out to the side, and Russia knows right away that the child was not human; they just did not have hair that did that.

It is not those things that catches Russia's eye, but the child's face. His skin is creamy with round cherub cheeks and a small prominent nose protruding from his face. Childish lips were pouty and just a tad pink. This child looked almost exactly like him.

A colony? Was this his colony? Sure he'd known about the land, but to find an actual representative...

Russia offered a small smile and wiped at the tears that were still running down the boy's face. "I am Imperial Russia, who are you," Ivan asked in one of the tongues that the tribal people of Kamchatka use.

The boy sniffled and tries to inch away, terrified. Ivan doesn't move any closer, but he tries several other languages until the boy suddenly looks at him with surprise; a small smile slowly crosses Ivan's face. The boy is _Unangan_ then, or what Russia likes to call them, Aleut. This does not surprise him since he found the child so close to the sea. "Is Alyeska(Prehistoric Alaska) your mother?" Russia knows that woman by many names, as he had driven her from Kamchatka Krai, but Alyeska seemed the most fitting at the moment.

The boy nodded and with a shaky breath said, "M-my nyame is Agwuta and that's Mishka," he points to the large puppy. Aguta? Miska? "So precious," Russia whispers as he smiles at the child's baby voice; it's adorable and makes him want to pinch the boy's cheeks.

Russia never felt this happy in all his life; this is exactly what he'd been waiting for. A little colony to call his own, a piece of the New World, his little Russian America. "I'm your papa, Aguta, and you're going to come back home with me so I can protect you and make you big and strong."

Aguta gave him a confused look before smiling and throwing himself in Russia's arms.

Ivan wasted no time in bringing the colony back with him to the boat; he could only wonder what he'd discover in time, but at the moment he was enjoying the view of the sun against the horizon while he held Aguta in his arms. Ivan is honestly surprised at how well the child has taken to him. Usually, the first thing any living being did at the sight of Russia was run in the opposite direction or try to beat him up; this is why he decides to bring the colony back with him instead of leaving the child behind.

"Wuk papa," the boy beamed at him as he pointed at the ever present orange ball of gas illuminating the blue water, "dat's da mid night sun! It nyever sets!" Russia smiled adoringly at his child as the boat carried them further and further away from the colony's home. It was the first smile that didn't feel forced, it was the first time someone had accepted him without question, his Russian America, his sunshine. Russia was going to make sure the child didn't grow up like he had to; he would never let anyone take his son away from him, ever.

 **Moscow, Russia. 1742.**

Aleksandr, formerly Aguta, hid under the bed as Miska nosed his cheek with her wet muzzle. Russian America did not like anything about his new house. He didn't like the new food, the new clothes(or the amount of times clothes were changed in one day), or the way the people acted so... proper. Aleksandr missed the sea where he fished for his own food, the whales, he missed the fur clothing his mother made for him, the whale dancing, and the use of his old language. The royals did not even speak the new language that Russia spoke to him. At least he still has Miska.

No one was any fun around here, they didn't even eat properly. Aleks had asked for whale meat because who didn't have that. The royals had given him a face that he could only compare to Belarus' scary porcelain dolls; they gave him a bowl of black tiny balls instead. It was his turn to give them the stink eye… who in their right mind would be satisfied by fish eggs.

Belarus and Ukraine are looking for him, but Aleksandr doesn't want to be bothered; he's tired and he wants everyone to stay quiet for a while. Russian America buries his face in Miska's thick coat of fur along her belly. Miska curls on her side and wraps her body around the young boy like she would do if he were sleeping in the snow; cocooned in warmth, tired eyes droop and Aleks falls asleep within seconds.

When Aleks stirs, it's because someone is messing with his peninsula. He scrunches his face up in annoyance and swats at the hand pulling on his curl. When aquamarine eyes open they are met with piercing violet and Aleks squealed in horror once he realizes he's in Russia's arms.

"Alik... you shouldn't skip your studies,little one," Russia is smiling at him, the smile that means he's in trouble.

"I wasn't skyipping. I needed nap after eating." Miska who is sitting on floor, chooses this moment to yawn, in her doggish fashion, as if agreeing with him.

"Um hmm. Yes, that is why you were under the bed." Russia tugs on the stray lock of hair once more and then sighs, "Have the royals done something to upset you again."

Aleks contemplates whether he should actually say anything to Russia; Ukraine had told him that Russia didn't like people that complained. Aleks decides to tell him anyway. Russia is his papa after all. "Dey say I speak wike a peasahnt boy."

Those violet eyes immediately furrow in annoyance and Aleksandr wonders if he's made a mistake. "It is because you speak to them in Russian instead of French," that unpleasant smile that had been present darkens and Aleksandr begins to shake. "You are just a boy. If it happens again, give me their names." Russian America knows this is why he was brought to Moscow first; the royals in St. Petersburg would be much worse.

"You are my colony and as Imperial Russia, I will have you speaking Russian before or _if_ I choose to teach you French." The dark aura dissipates as if nothing has happened and the smile turns into a genuine one. Russia presses Aleks closer to his side and pecks him on the forehead. "Now let's get you cleaned up so you can learn lesson. I brought a chief from one of the Siberian tribes to teach you alphabet today. He came long way, so be nice to him."

While Aleks could understand Russian to some extent due to the amount of time he spent with Russia to get to Moscow, he had no idea what the alphabet looked like or how to speak it properly. Aleks does not understand the Slavic accent sometimes, but he has picked the language up easy enough.

Ukraine gives Aleks a bath and provides new clothes. When he is brought to his room, Belarus and Russia are waiting with a man that looks like the people of his mainland. His black hair, and brown eyes and skin make him stand out among the adults.

"Oh, so small… he understands language?" Aleks is surprised to hear the man speak fluent Russian.

"Yes," Russia replies smoothly; his posture is relaxed and he seems completely at ease. This can only be because there's no royals to judge him on his demeanor; Aleks also relaxes.

"You must be a land god, too. Please call me Chief Denali. Tell me your given name."

Aleks looks to Russia for permission to say the name that was taken from him and smiles when he is given consent. "Hewwo Chief Denawi! Mommy called me Agwuta, now I'm Aweksandar." Aleks says his new name to make his papa smile. It's hard for him to pronounce, but he likes it just as much as the name his mother gave him. Aleks is awarded with Russia sending him warm smiles and adoring eyes and…

Ukraine has plucked him off the floor, like he is a ripe blueberry waiting to be picked, and she squeezed him uncomfortably close to her chest. She rubs her face into his soft grayish hair, and her long blonde curls fall into his face. "Sasha! So cute and soft," she coos over him.

Chief Denali is smiling and Belarus hides her amusement behind one of her hands. Russia apologizes with his eyes. When Ukraine puts Aleks back on his feet, Chief Denali extends a hand and says, "You will persevere little land under the ice." Aleks is relieved to hear the man speak his mother language and extends his own hand; it is immediately engulfed in a firm handshake.

"I must be leaving now," Russia sighs, "but if you do good Aleksandr… I will bring you back some whale meat, okay?" Aleksandr is starry eyed and drooling as he nods and waves his father away.

 **Summer Palace, St. Petersburg, Russia 1748.**

Russia is only slightly annoyed. Aleksandr (and the dog) has become a master at hiding; it took Ivan over four hours to find the colony in his own home. Well… he has many homes, but Ivan knows them all like the back of his hand.

It is not only the matter of finding Aleks that annoys him, it is the pestering of a girl, Sophie, that has attached herself to Russia as soon as he'd made his appearance in the palace. She is one of Prussia's, or was, until she married Peter III, who is next in line for the throne; the girl now calls herself Catherine and she is adamant that Russia is not human. How she knows that just by looking at him, he'll never know.

Catherine is clever, only select royals know about Russia's eternal condition. Now, that didn't mean people did not know about him; many people knew who he was and worshipped him as a land god. They were peasants and the church did not appreciate, nor acknowledge their pagan celebrations of his existence. Catherine's eyes stare after him longingly, and Russia is not sure if she is in pursuit of the crown or Russia himself. But from one look, Russia is aware that her scandalous behavior is part of a higher scheme. She only relents when Ivan finds Aleks… walking along the rooftops with Miska.

Now, Russia hid his frown behind his scarf; Russian America had his arms crossed defiantly as he pouted at Ivan. Grayish locks, that would surely turn black someday, glistened from the incoming sun with that stray hair, representing the peninsula, always flaring away from the rest; aquamarine eyes looked off to the side. Russia had been gone long due to the Hats' War with Sweden and the War of Austrian Succession keeping him away. Every chance he got Russia tried to spend with Aleks, but he hadn't expected these sudden tantrums.

Russia had been very successful with his teachings of the Russian Orthodoxy; Empress Elizabeth was very religious and insisted that Aleks learn… She also insisted that he learned French, but one withering look from Russia on the subject was enough to make her forget about it.

Now the little colony looked irritable. Maybe it was the teachings, maybe it was the constant changing of royal attire throughout the day; Russia did not know, but Elizabeth was not happy with the colony's constant cries around the royal courts.

"Please don't be angry with papa, Aleksandr," Russia tried, the long white scarf muffled his words.

Ivan was suddenly taken aback as Aleks openly glared at him. "You want me to be happy while you kill my people! You trick my people with this false religion and then you enslave and kill them over sea otters. My sea otters!" Ivan's mouth hung slightly open. Gone, was the babyish way of talking and friendly tone.

Russia was afraid, not of his colony, but of losing him and it frightened him that his colony did not consider the Russian settlers his people, only the Aleutians and other native tribes.

…Does this mean that Alyeska has died? Aleksandr had been doing well until recently. A small frown formed as Russia thought this over. Alyeska was not a weak woman; had she given up? Russia hasn't seen her since she left Kamchatka, but… had Aleksandrs appearance weakened her?

...Does Aleks know his mother is dead? Does he know that he is now all of Alaska?

Russia would do anything to keep his little colony happy, and he wanted Alaska to smile those heartwarming smiles of his, not these vengeful glares he was receiving. Did this mean Alaska did not accept him? His heart beat rapidly from hurt, it had always been too soft and weak.

Russia pulled his scarf down, tried his best to smile, and tried the name that used to belong to the colony's mother. "But Alaska, the settlers are your people," he insisted and Alaska does not deny the name. Ivan's eyebrows furrowed, "And I have been too busy at war to visit your homeland. Don't you know I would never strike you, my little Russian America. Here," Ivan holds out his hand, "hit me, if you think I deserve it."

Faster than lightning, a tiny hand springs out and smacks Russia's hand, leaving behind slightly red stinging skin. But soon hot tears replaced Alaska's glare and Ivan immediately picked up his temperamental child. "But it hurts so much! I can feel them dying!"

Russia's heart stung at that; Alaska was too young to be experiencing these conflicts, but it was something that he'd get used to as he aged. Every nation had to live with these growing pains; they would eventually lessen. Russia placed a large hand over Alaska's soft grayish hair and ran his fingers through it gently while his other hand rubbed Alaska's back.

Alaska hid his face away in Ivan's shoulder, "I'm sorry, papa," he hiccupped.

Ivan smiles softly, "I know what would make you feel better." Aqua eyes look up inquisitively. "Whale hunting." And Alaska lets out a squeal that reminds him once more of the colony's baby nature.

…

Alaska's definition of whale hunting was just a tad bit different from Russia's. See what Russia meant was he'd let the colony shoot the harpoon, seated safely behind the gun while Russia watched over him; this is not at all how it happened.

Out at sea, on a large whaling vessel, the colony stood at the rail of the hull meticulously looking for the large sea mammal. It's the first time Alaska's been out of St. Petersburg, and the palace in general, since he's arrived, so Russia is just slightly worried for the colony's safety; Europe was still very much interested in the Americas.

Sea spray filled the air with the scent of salt, and the water reflected back a deep ocean blue. White foam appeared where waves crashed and waves began rolling at a distance away. The moment Alaska points at it, a large gray form breaches the surface. The high pitched sounds of orcas echo back to them.

"Alright, come sit behind the swivel gun Alik," Russia points at the chair behind the weird looking gun and Alaska looks at it with confusion.

"What's that for papa?"

"To shoot the whale," Russia said, confused himself, "How do you hunt them?"

"Let me show you," Alaska is happy to demonstrate and the crew is curious at how the tiny child is going to hit a whale without using the swivel gun. After making sure a rope is tied securely to the rail, the colony picks up the harpoon with one hand and hops into the chair to help him see over the rail. Some of the crew are laughing with exclamations of 'let the little guy have his fun' and 'look at that shrimp'. Alaska ignores them, takes aim, and with one thrust of his arm, water shoots up in the air less than two seconds later and the color red begins tainting the blue water. "Yes," Alaska shouts and claps his hands, jumping from the place on his chair and begins dancing.

The crew falls silent and Russia is appalled. Such precision, such accuracy; how could a colony have that kind of strength? A sudden frenzy breaks out, with the crew chanting, "Zemlyanoy bog!"

The Americas were proving to be different, very different than Europe.

* * *

Alik and Sasha are diminutive forms of Aleksandr.

A/N: I split Alaska up for a reason. Alaska has always been traditional and stuck in it's ways. Even after it accepted Russian ideals, the tribal influence would always be dominant. That's still true for present day Alaska.

 **Headcanons:**

America's states have representatives and he likes to call them his children when they actually aren't. Reasons: Some of them used to be nations/ some of them were colonies from other nations. Every state has its own laws and government. They're basically micronations.

Provinces [in federations] have reps because of some of the reasons above. Canada treats his provinces like close friends. Russia treats his like business partners.

 **Translations:**

Alyeska (Aleutian)/ Alyaska (Russian) – Alaska. mainland/ the object toward which the action of the sea is directed/ that which breaks against the shore

Aguta (Aleutian) – good spirit (that lived under the ice)

Mis(h)ka (Aleutian/Russian) – little bear/ teddy bear

Denali (Aleutian) - mountain (it's also the highest mountain peak in North America)

Zemlyanoy bog (Russian) - Land/ Earth god

 **Fun Facts:**

Kamchatka is mostly wilderness and a region of Russia that still has tribal people. (I want to tour there, it's so beautiful! *v*)

The Russians were the first people to call the natives, Aleut. The origin is uncertain, but it could have come from Siberian tribal language Chukchi, which is **aliuit** , but it could also have been corruption of the Aleut word for "community," **allíthuh**. They are actually called Unangan(singular) or Unangax(plural). It means "coastal people". Most of them now call themselves Aleut.

Catherine the Great was Sophie before she married Peter III, and she was Prussian.

Whaling was not a huge issue until the 1970s… when they were nearly extinct.

 **Historical Notes:**

In 1741, Aleksei Chirikov, commanding the _Sv. Pavel_ on Vitus Bering's second voyage of exploration, made the first  recorded European landfall on the northwest coast of North America at Baker Island on the west coast of Prince of Wales Island. The Russians had found Alaska before, but it was not documented.

The only claim that Russia made of Alaska was discovering it. Russians were mainly there for the fur trade and did not settle far from the coast, but they did know that more land was to the east, so claimed the whole territory. Population at the most was a thousand. Russians continued to move further south to the Oregon territory and California for the fur trade. (Basically most of the west coast used to be Russian America until 1821.)

In 1748, Russians started converting the natives to Russian Orthodoxy. There was fighting over who would get the sea otters, and the killing of sea otters in general.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter is short… sorry! It's more of a transition than a complete chapter. [Re-read first chapter if you didn't read the new version].**

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 **Winter Palace. St. Petersburg, Russia 1776**

The home of Imperial Russia had been peaceful for nearly two decades now; not a drop of blood had been shed and Ivan would like to keep it that way. Although Catherine had deceived and seduced her way to the throne, Russia turned a blind eye to her behavior because she was much more fit to be sitting there than her husband… well, dead husband now. Russia was grateful for Empress Catherine calming Alaska down; his people were now somewhat getting along and Alaska's temper tantrums had almost disappeared.

Catherine had earned a special place in his heart, not only had she increased the Russian Empire's power by _crushing_ his neighbors to the west but she had improved his relationship with Alaska. She had been nothing but good to him since the beginning of her reign in 1763. But like any human, she did have a downside; Catherine did not end serfdom after announcing she didn't like it. Russia knows it will be her downfall, but she is stubborn.

He stood beside his Tsariss, surprised to find her awake and dressed to welcome England's colony at such a late hour. Catherine was quite hospitable, unless you happened to be the British Empire that is; she didn't like him much, as he happened to be a coward.

The servants greeted the guests as they walked in and Russia watched the colony, or rather the newly declared United States of America. Ivan was quite impressed; he had once met this child in London and less than a century later, still just a small child, he was already fighting for his independence. And quite a child he was to have such will to stand up to England. The boy had a clever head. He'd secretly been trading with nations without England's approval; Russia and Catherine both encouraged it because neither of them liked the British nation; it was a good laugh to see the Englishman struggling with his colony.

The United States walked in front of them, followed by his human leader; they exchanged greetings, and Russia found something strangely enchanting about the nation candidate as violet eyes stared down at him. The boy was staring him straight in the eyes, something that even the most powerful nations failed to do; Russia couldn't help but smile; he'd do fine as a powerful ally someday.

While Russia had remained neutral during the American Revolutionary War, he couldn't say he wasn't biased. Russia wanted the American to win his nationhood; in fact, Catherine refused to assist England "tame" the colony, and insisted that the Brit resolve the war by talking peacefully to the colony. Although the war has officially ended, England hasn't stopped trying to take the American back; Russia's heard some nasty rumors about the British Empire's effort to maintain control, for his sake, he better hope it is just a rumor.

The American has come seeking to have Russia acknowledge his independence.

Russia was pulled out of his thoughts as a tug on his boot caught his attention. He looked down to find a sleepy Alaska rubbing at his eyes, dressed in only his nightgown.

"Alaska," Catherine stated adoringly.

Alaska looked up and held up his arms to be picked up. Ivan sighed and picked him up anyway; he didn't have the heart to reprimand Alaska for coming out less than presentable. "What are you doing out of bed, little one?"

"I want to be strong just like that someday," Alaska's sleepy voice drifted off. A sad smile found its way to Ivan's lips; did that mean Alaska wanted to be free? Alaska had potential to grow from his colony status, but hopefully Russia would not have to act violently against his own child.

The next morning Ivan finds Aleks playing in the courtyard with Miska, and the United States is sitting on one of the benches reading a book. Neither of them notice Russia so he doesn't make his presence known. Ivan knows that Alaska is a clever colony, if he wants something he will find a way to get it, and Alaska has been eying the American all morning.

Several minutes pass like this until Alaska pats his dog on the head and walks over to the American. The United States puts down the book to eye Alaska. "Yes?"

Russia knows that Alaska does not understand English and the American colony doesn't understand Russian, so how would they communicate? "How come you want to leave your papa?" Alaska speaks in a tribal language. America seemed shocked, looking around frantically to see if anyone was nearby before concentrating on Alaska again.

"It is complicated," he responds tensely in some other language, but it's close enough that Russia can understand what he's saying. Honestly, it is surprising that they can do that. "He abandoned me, turned my brother against me, and… hurt me." Russia wonders if the rumors are true after all; there's ways to subdue unruly colonies, but Russia rather not indulge those thoughts.

"You don't love each other? I can't imagine papa not loving me," Alaska replies with and Russia smiles; so his Russian America didn't want to leave him. That was a relief. Even though his colony hasn't physically grown, the child has become increasing astute and that worries Russia sometimes; but it's clear that Alaska still has the mentality of a child.

"Your papa is different… he cares about you," America sounds deflated. Something in that voice makes Russia want to turn back time to 1698 when he first met the colony, and steal the American from England's neglectful eye. Alaska would have a brother and the American would not have had to grow up so fast.

Alaska grabs America's hand and holds his ball up. "Come play with me and Miska." The dog barks in agreement, and the conversation is forgotten.

 **1799**

Alaska hadn't had a tantrum per se. The colony had been more moody, complaining of frequent headaches and upset stomachs. Some days the Russian was unable to find the colony in the entirety of the palace grounds, while on others Alaska made it very clear he was angry by taking his tiny fists and hitting on Russia's legs.

It isn't Alaska's fault that he's been acting this way, so Russia never reprimands him for it. Alaska's mood swings came directly from Russia failing to establish a governing body in Russia America. The poor colony was stuck in the middle between choosing sides in conflicts he was too young to understand; Russia didn't fail to notice that Alaska usually sided with the tribes. Despite England calling the indigenous people of the Americas savages, they were very civil and had established governing bodies well before any of the colonies had been found. Once his mother had died, the tribes had power over Alaska that Russia did not have.

Now that families were starting to expand away from Alaska's coasts, Russia needed a government in place to keep Alaska from losing his mind. It is for that reason that Russia took Aleksandr from the palace to meet with a chairman of one of the Russian American trading companies. Aleksandr doesn't say anything on the short walk, choosing to keep his face hidden in the collar of Russia's uniform as he's being held. Miska trails after them and growls at any bystanders that try to come near them.

The man waiting for them is well into his fifties and he's balding. He is much shorter and rounder than Russia. When the man's beady eyes catches sight of the tall Russian, his demeanor shrivels a little. "Y-you? My m-motherland… you aren't a woman?" Russia inwardly chuckles to himself. That is how many people reacted upon seeing him: a stuttering mess; if that was not the case then they were proud to see their country was strong.

Many people thought that if the motherland had a spirit, it would be a woman for she nurtured her children like any respectable mother with her bountiful lands, but severely injured the invaders like a mother bear fending for her cubs.

Russia placed Alaska on the floor before the man. "Mr. Baranov, please meet your charge. This is my colony, Alaska." The man looks skeptical as he stares down at the colony, beginning to inspect the colony like he'd find some riches on his person. "I expected him to be bigger," the man mumbled and Aleks smacks the hand away that attempted to pull his peninsula, and Russia sighs.

"Alaska, Mr. Baranov is going to be your first governor. He's been living in your mainland for nearly ten years now, so he knows a lot about you." Aqua eyes meet his violet ones and a small frown settles over his face. Russia doesn't know why Alaska has become wary around strangers, especially humans; the colony had become content spending time with Ukraine, Belarus, and Lithuania. Aleks won't part with his dog even if it is just to eat at the table, and he hides away from the humans. Russia almost wonders if someone has been abusing his colony in his absence, but there's no signs of it.

"Be nice and sign the paperwork, okay. It'll help your citizens." Alaska nods and signs all the needed forms to give Baranov some power over decisions in Russian America.

Back in the safety of his home, Alaska uncurls and relaxes his defenses. Just as easy as they had come, the headaches were gone and the colony hadn't back talked him since leaving the office. "Do you want to go back to your mainland?" Russia is sincere in his question. It would be perfectly normal to return the colony to his own land now that there was some form of government in place. There would even be a benefit of having Alaska in charge of the fur trade. Alaska must be nostalgic too; while Russia has been back to North America several times, the colony has not touched his own soil for nearly six decades.

"Will you stay with me," Alaska asks and Russia shakes his head 'no'. That would be impossible. A large hand combs through gray strands and pulls at the tuft of hair that Alaska calls his peninsula. Aleks swats the hand away and buries his body into Russia's side. "Then we visit; you won't leave me will you, papa?"

Russia is taken aback. Usually colonies reared away from their homeland wanted to leave their caretakers, to be around their own people, culture, animals, lands. Only the Bering Strait separated Russia from Alaska, but the colony wanted to stay with him. "Of course I won't, Alik."

* * *

A/N: So why little America in this story? Because Russian America began trading with the United States. The transition is showing Alaska's growing comfort with his family.

 **Fun Fact:**

Catherine the Great didn't affiliate herself with Russia, or anywhere else, even though she sat on the throne. She just wanted the crown. She hated serfdom, but didn't end it; in fact she made it harder for peasants to express themselves.

Catherine the Great did NOT have sex with a horse; that was a rumor spread by her enemies (serfs) after her death.

 **Historical Notes:**

Catherine the Great became Empress in 1763, and proclaimed goodwill toward the Aleuts and urged her subjects to treat them fairly. On some islands and parts of the Alaskan Peninsula, groups of traders had been capable of relatively peaceful coexistence with the local inhabitants. Other groups could not manage the tensions and committed acts of violence.

Russian influence in the American Revolutionary War led to the War officially ending in 1776 which helped America declare its independence

In 1799, Aleksandr Baranov became the 1st Governor of Russian America. He later started war with the Tlingit, who owned Sitka, and around 1802 and won in 1808. He renamed Sitka, Novo-Arkhangelsk, after the city he was born in (Arkhangelsk).


	3. Chapter 3

**October 1812**

Russia is at home lying in bed. He lie unnaturally still not muttering a sound; to most, the nation was bedridden with an illness. Alaska knew it was not true. The French had invaded Moscow a month ago, hoping that by taking the capital, the Russians would give up. Even though St. Petersburg is the capital, Russia held Moscow very close to his heart as his first capital. The city was now abandoned and burned to the ground; Russia has been bedridden and feverish since.

A hand comes to rest atop Alaska's head as he watches his papa. Craning his neck up, aqua eyes rest on Lithuania's face. "It'll be alright, let's get you to bed now. Ukraine will take care of him." Alaska nods and lifts his arms to be picked up. Lithuania is mistaking his expression to be one of sadness, but Alaska is actually angry. Never has Aleks seen Russia injured, and he would not forgive anyone that hurt any part of his family.

With Ukraine busy, Belarus is the one that helps him get ready for bed, but she is much more perceptive than Lithuania. "What is it," her face is grim with suppressed rage, as there's nothing she can do about the state of her brother.

Alaska knows that of any nation, Belarus will understand what he's about to tell her. "I need a gun." A look of surprise flits over her face before she schools it into a more neutral expression; her hands stop messing with the ribbons on his nightgown and she goes to his wardrobe and pulls out a coat.

By the strike of twelve, Belarus had everything prepared and Alaska is well on his way to Moscow. Miska trailed ahead, finding safe trails and warning him of any nearby dangers. Bands of cossack gathered behind him as Aleks walked through the cities; the red aura surrounding him did nothing to dissuade them to stay away from him. His intent was aimed at someone else and they seemed to sense this, willingly following behind him even though his human age was just a mere three years. 'Land god' they called him, an angel come to defend the motherland.

The Cossacks roared when they entered Moscow, which had been plundered by the French. Alaska ignored them, having only one target in mind: the French Empire. And with Miska's help, Alaska does find him. With his back turned, the unsuspecting nation doesn't see Alaska pull out the gun and take aim. Without any hesitation, Alaska fires and the French Empire falls to his knees with a cry, holding an injured shoulder.

France turns around with baited breath, staring out into the night, searching for the one that has attacked him. Pained blue eyes find Alaska staring back with a wicked grin, red aura swirling around him (France would later swear on Napoleon's life that he had seen a demon), and praying to the winter spirit to bury France under snow. France left Moscow that night.

When Alaska arrived back home, a surprise is waiting for him. "Papa!" Aleks is so excited to see the nation standing in the doorway that he doesn't notice how emotional Russia looks.

Ivan weakly collapses to his knees and engulfs Alaska into his arms. Soft platinum hair brushes Aleks' cheek as Ivan's face is buried in the crook of his neck. "Never do that again! It is my job to protect you," Russia whimpers and squeezes him tight, "Please, don't fight." Alaska is taken off guard seeing his papa acting so sensitive. A tiny smile turns up the corners of Aleks' lips and his small arms wrap around his papa as much as they can. Aleks does not regret what he's done.

 **Winter Palace, St. Petersburg July 25, 1854**

To many officials and elite, it might seem unseemly of Russia to be playing outside. They knew exactly what he was and as their representation, they expected better of him. As a man that represented the "infinitely majestic, determined and powerful, hard as stone, and relentless as fate," Tsar Nikolai does not like this side of Ivan.

The weather is nice and warm, with bright blue skies and Russia is playing with Russian America in the royal courts. A ball is being passed between them, but Aleks is so small that he often ends up rolling in the grass to stop the ball. Ivan doesn't mind the dirt so much, he is simply happy to be able to do this.

Because of the Crimean War that Nikolai led him into, Russia doesn't have much time to spare before he has to be on his way again. Otherwise Turkey will clear a path straight through the Balkans and take Crimea. His presence wasn't actually needed for the war to go on, but it did give his men morale.

Ivan's facade has long since dropped in the morning hours and a small smile rests across his lips. A bubble of laughter escapes him, as he spies the odd angles that Aleks' tufts of black and gray hair take after rolling in the grass again.

It isn't until Aleks takes the ball in his hands and sits in the grass with a stoic expression that Russia becomes concerned. Russia wonders if maybe he has kicked the ball too hard and hurt Alaska.

Before Ivan can even act, the next moment absolutely terrifies him. The ball rolls away as Aleks lets it go to grasp at his chest. Alaska lets out a heart wrenching scream so loud that the birds spook from their perches and take to the skies. Tears begin flowing freely down his face. Russia runs to his colony immediately and scoops him up. "Tell me where it hurts, Alaska," Russia tries to stay calm but his voice stutters; he brings Alaska back inside the palace walls.

"Novo-Arkhangelsk," Alaska wails into the coat of Ivan's uniform.

Russia's teeth grit out of anger, "Who." The way the word rolled off his tongue had people flinching and stepping out of his way without any questions asked. Who would dare attack Alaska's heart.

"...England ...France," Alaska is beginning to sound weak. Russia seethes, the two of them are supposed to be fighting his army in the Balkans. So he turns his back on them, and they attack his colony? Are they trying to weaken him by taking Alaska? Russia is going to kill them both.

"B-brother, what has happened," Belarus sees him and begins following out of concern.

"Go get sister," is all he tells her. Russia is going to need Ukraine to watch over Alaska while he goes to kill those cowards.

Ivan gently lays Alaska on his back when he finally reaches the bed chamber. He tries to make Aleks comfortable but there isn't much he can do. Ivan spots Miska on the floor and places the bundle of fur beside her owner in hopes she would take some of his pain away.

"Don't you worry, I'm going to make the pain stop," Russia says as he combs his fingers through Alaska's soft downy hair.

Just as he is pulling away, Alaska grabs ahold of his fingers. "Petropavlovsk is next."

Petropavlovsk? In Kamchatka? If England and France think they can attack him in his own house, Russia is going to show them how mistaken they are. This time, Alaska lets him leave, but standing at the door is Tsar Nikolai.

"Are you really going to leave with Crimea at stake?"

"Crimea is your mess," Russia pushes past his leader; he doesn't mean to be rude, but after spending two decades with him, how could Nikolai not see that Russia cares deeply for Alaska. Of course, he's going to go East. Alaska matters more to him right now than that silly conflict Nikolai had started with Turkey. "If you want someone to go fight, then send Poland or Lithuania." There was also Estonia and Finland somewhere in the palace; the list was endless.

 **Novo-Arkhangelsk/Sitka, Alaska. Russian America, 1867**

Russia never recovered from the Siege of Petropavlovsk, at least not mentally. The petrified look and sound of Alaska screaming haunted him; it reminded Russia of himself when Mongolia and Sweden terrorized him as a child. Looking at Alaska had been a constant reminder of how he had failed to protect his colony. He had realized too late that even behind his palace walls, he could not protect Alaska physically. Alaska was on an entirely different continent, too far away for Russia to defend, and he did not have enough resources to put a military base there. If another conflict were to arise again, Alaska would be indefensible and Ivan would not allow Aleks to be hurt again.

Making colonies in the New World was not as fun as Russia thought it would be. Russia has not ventured to anymore of the Americas since Petropavlovsk, instead his gaze had turned to Asia. That does not mean he neglected Aleks, in fact, Alaska has been glued to his hip since being attacked, which makes this all the more painful.

"Ivan, are you sure you want to do this?" America asked, unsure that this was the right thing to do, "He's going to struggle to fit in with the rest of my children."

Russia focused on America's appearance and pushed the paper across the desk; he knew the younger nation was still struggling with the aftermath of his Civil War; hopefully, Alaska would make him feel better. America still had bags under his eyes from sleepless nights and outbreaks of absolute insanity. Ivan knew he was tired; the kid was only sixteen in appearance, but he'd grown in so little time. This was in Alaska's best interest. Russia just didn't want to think about how he'd failed Alaska; he couldn't afford to take care of his own child. He had failed at being a father.

…Besides, this would benefit America's manifest destiny plan.

Russia's left arm was holding a bundle of Alaska; the child has not grown at all in Russia's care, a result of not expanding into the mainland or building a militia. This would be the last time Ivan would get to hold him. Alaska's head was pressed into the folds of Russia's uniform and he knew that tears were soaking through; all of his soft downy gray hairs had grown into smooth black strands. Ivan didn't bother to coo at him because there were no words that could take the pain away from either of them.

He had to do this. If America didn't take Alaska then Russia would have to consider giving him to England, and he didn't want that. "Please, Alfred. Please sign the paper. You'll be happy with him, I promise." Alfred still looked skeptical. "Do you want me to give him to England?" Russia didn't want to say it, but America needed to understand that Russia didn't have an option in keeping Alaska. If he just abandoned the colony, then Aleks would die and Ivan could not allow that to happen either.

America tensed at the mention of England's name and sighed. In a soft voice he says, "I'm sorry that Britain and France did that to you. They're not gentlemen at all."

Russia hums in agreement, "It is fine. Mr. Monroe was right. I shouldn't be expanding in the Americas."

"Now Ivan, you know President Monroe did not mean it that way. Alaska was already your colony and I never meant to take him from you." America sighs again, "I hope you don't regret this, Ivan. I'll take him because we're friends, but I won't give him back if you ask." Russia nodded in understanding; he knew how possessive America was over his children and what Russia wanted was for Alaska to be accepted into a family that could protect him. America was the right decision.

Reluctantly, America signed his name across the dotted line, starting the chain reaction of the land transfer. Russia felt Aleks shiver against him; he knew it must have felt weird to belong to a different nation. Russia felt his own weight become considerably lighter and the languages, culture, and voices that accompanied the land were gone; it made him feel a little empty inside. America's face was scrunched up at the added weight; Alaska was not a small territory.

Alfred tried to look at Alaska from across the desk. "What's your name?" His voice was smooth and quiet; Alfred knew how to handle children, he had many of them.

Aleks sniffled into Russia's coat before looking at the American nation and wiping his eyes. He frowned and looked up into Ivan's face, and it dawned on him that Alaska couldn't understand English yet. "Tell him your name," he whispered in Russian. Ivan had to wonder if Alfred would change Alaska's name.

"Aleksandr Ivanovich Braginsky." His voice sounded so tiny and full of sorrow that it pulled at Ivan's heart.

Russia stood up, carefully placing the child on his feet and avoiding the ever present puppy that stayed by Alaska's side. Russia grabbed Alaska's small hand in his larger one. "We should go watch the changing of the flag." Alfred nodded once and stood too.

The changing of the flag hadn't been any less painful. While the Russian flag was coming down, one of the soldiers tripped and the flag ripped. Russia felt his heart spasm painfully at the sight; it was a shot to his already broken pride. A tiny hand squeezed his finger and he looked down at Alaska.

Surprisingly, his features had already slightly changed. The shape of his eyes resembled that of America's, eyes that now stared up at him sadly. His nose was less prominent and smaller against his face. Everything else was the same, but it was clear that Alaska was no longer his colony. Losing him was unbearable. Ivan snatched his hand away like he'd been burned; he turned away from Alaska and away from the flag changing.

"Ivan," Alfred said in a quiet voice; a hand was placed on his shoulder, but Ivan shrugged it off. Russia couldn't let them see him like this; he couldn't let them see him cry, and he was very close. Russia began walking away without another word.

"Papa? Papa!" Russia felt his heart squeezing, like it was being wrung out like a weeping cloth. He continued walking and tried to ignore that painful ache in his chest. A weight suddenly attacked his leg and Russia looked down at the child attached to him. "You said you wouldn't leave me. You promised!"

Russia's face shifted into an emotionless mask, one that he'd never looked at Aleks with; it was hard and baleful. Alaska gasped and stumbled back, falling in the snow; tears were already streaming down his face.

It hurt Russia more than anything to know he caused those tears; he wished he could say something sweet and calming, but what could he possibly say. Russia could not keep his act for much longer; this is not what he wants Aleks to last remember about him. Ivan crumbled to the ground like melting snow, his face portraying nothing but sadness now. "Alyaska, the British Empire was going to steal you from me, and there's nothing I can do about that. I wouldn't get here in time to protect you." Alaska doesn't say anything.

"Now, you are not my son. You are no longer Russian America; you are the Territory of Alaska and you belong to the United States," Russia said as he picked himself up.

Violet eyes watched as America slowly picked the crying boy up in his arms and cradled his face in the crook of his neck. "It's okay," America cooed in one of Alaska's native tongues, "I'm your daddy now, and you have lots of brothers and sisters waiting for you at home." Alfred looked up and met Russia's gaze, nodding once.

Ivan turned away pitifully and walked away with tears streaming down his face. They would never know how much pain he was in.

His Russian America was gone…

 **Omake**

 **Virginia - Washington, DC. June 12, 2011**

Russia was just a little wary that he was in America's capital; usually the young nation hosted his meetings in New York. Ivan was only slightly worried because America had asked him, and only him, to stay behind after the meeting. To his knowledge, Russia hadn't done anything recently to make America upset; the American said he had his reasons, but Russia could never be too sure, especially since they were currently walking around the White House. No men in suits were following them, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Russia loosened his scarf just a little, he was beginning to feel hot in his suit.

"Hey dude, relax... nothing bad is going to happen," America says with a wink and one of those twinkling smiles of his; it does nothing to calm Russia's nerves. After all these years, Russia isn't entirely sure if America is his friend, so he has no idea what to expect. This is the closest they've been in awhile, maybe America just wanted to catch up?

They came across a room with a solid oak door, the sound of scuffling and... yipping? echoed from the other side and Russia gave America a questioning look. Was there a dog here? "They must have found Bo," America chuckles and Russia is even more confused. What is a Bo? America twisted the doorknob and oak sweeped across blue carpeting. Immediately, a young teenager came into view; he looked a lot like America except his eyes and hair were brown, there's a mole under the left frame of his glasses and his skin was paler. "Good, you're back," the strange person... no, nation... no, state, glanced up from a book he was reading, "If you're done playing, I have work to do."

"Ginni," America places a hand over his chest, "you wound me."

"Virginia," he corrects with a wag of his finger, and stands up, taking the book with him. "If you don't need me anymore then... Bo!" The state whistles and a big curly haired black and white dog lifts it's head from one of the chairs in the room. The dog barks and with a wag of it's tail, leaps out of the chair and follows Virginia. "Hello Mr. Russia," the state bows his head as he walks out the room.

Russia is completely lost. "Why did you bring me here," Ivan questions America, who is closing the door behind them. The nation doesn't even have time to answer. The only warning that something is amiss is the whoosh of air Russia hears before he is knocked to the ground like a sack of potatoes had just landed on him. "Papa!" Violet eyes widened at the sound, and Russia looks down to see the head of black hair nuzzled against his chest; Ivan's heart began to swell at the feel of arms wrapping around his torso. Russia pulls himself into a sitting position and holds the little form up. Alaska had grown a lot; he looked like a nine year old child now. There was a little tag pinned to the front of the state's shirt, reading 'Alexander Braginsky-Jones' and a smile pulls the corners of Russia's lips up; America had left Alaska's name alone. "Alik! You've gotten so big." A bark sounded from right next to him. "You too, Miska," Russia laughs breathlessly as the fluffy malamute pup bounded into his lap and began licking at his cheek.

"Happy Birthday, dude!" America cheers from behind them, and Russia feels like he could cry.

"Y-you," Ivan doesn't know what to say. No one had celebrated his birthday in decades; he wasn't even sure the other nations knew when it was, but here he is. America had presented him with the one thing that had left a hole in his chest. This is all Russia could ever ask for. Ivan buried his face into Alaska's soft black strands of hair, and they smelled very much like the salty sea that surrounded Alaska's home. "Thank you so much," Russia finally says, "thank you." The nation embraces the state for all the years he went without so much as a word from the one he held so dear in his heart. Russia had truly missed his Russian America.

* * *

A/N: 1867 was supposed to be the end, but my heart wouldn't let me end this there. And yes, I know what the Heta wiki says, but Russia day (Russian Federation's B-day) is June 12. The date on the wiki (December 30) is the Soviet Union's birthday.

 **Headcanon:** A colonies features changes depending on who is in charge of them(like England's eyebrows on most of his colonies. Hong Kong definitely did not have those before England took him from China). In this case, Alaska gains American influence (his nose) because most of the Russians left (mind you, Russian America only had about 700 Russians). The features they have when gaining independence are the ones they keep.

 **Translation:**

Novo-Arkhangelsk (Russian) – New Archangel (This was Sitka, Alaska)

 **Fun Fact:**

Russia almost owned Hawaii(1816); Fort Elizabeth was set up there. A German by the name of George Schaffer, affiliated with Russia, wanted to overthrow the Hawaiian king to take control of a sandalwood monopoly. Tsar Alexander I would not allow it because he did not want to ruin Russia's relationship with America, who bought the sandalwood monopoly while the argument was going on between Russians and Hawaiians.

Russians (and Ukrainians/Belarusians) do not have middle names, they have patronymics, which is their father's name with a suffix added.

It's Braginsky with a -y/-iy. Braginski with an -i is Polish.

 **Historical Notes:**

The French invaded Russia in 1812. Moscow burned down in September, even though that was not the goal. The French empire wanted the Russians to give up and when they didn't the French left in October because they were beginning to starve, and yes, Cossacks did ambush the French while they were leaving.

July 25, 1854, France and England felt like their California trade was being threatened by Russians(even though Russia didn't claim that area anymore), so they attacked where they thought Russian bases would be in the North. Sitka was one but there were no Russian warships there. Petropavlovsk was another and Russia defeated the English and French there.

The Crimean War was a conflict fought from 1853 to 1856 in which the Russian Empire lost, as a result of Tsar Nikolai micromanaging the army, to an alliance of the Ottoman Empire(Turkey), France, Britain and Sardinia. Nikolai was also the King of Poland and the Grand Duke of Finland.

In 1867, Russia gives Alaska to the USA. Russia thought about giving Alaska away ever since Sitka was taken during the Siege of Petropavlovsk. The first candidate was England but the Russian Empire despised England. The next and only option was the USA. The Siege also caused the Russian Empire to stop exploring the Americas and focus on Asia instead. Russia, having never explored most of mainland Alaska, had no right to sell the whole territory because that land belonged to the tribes, which caused problems for America later.

Manifest Destiny: a term coined in 1845, that settlers of the United States were destined to expand across North America.

Monroe Doctrine: a United States policy of opposing European colonialism in the Americas beginning in 1823. Russia was the main target at the time because it had expanded its territory from Alaska down the west coast of the US, and prohibited any vessels near its coasts unless they risk confiscation (Ukase of 1821).


End file.
